


presume not that i'm the thing i was

by SilentReprobate



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fever Dreams, M/M, Paranoia, References to Shakespeare, vivid imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentReprobate/pseuds/SilentReprobate
Summary: Nightmares bring out the worst in RyanThen no one can blame him when he refuses to sleep.Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.





	presume not that i'm the thing i was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishlongandprosper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishlongandprosper/gifts).



> That feeling when pulling a Hamlet quote out of your ass spurs a mess of a fic. I blame Lion but I love him so it's okay. Inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CATngmjRitI). It's one of my favorites.
> 
> Heavily, heavily inspired by headcanons between me and Lion. Written for my [RP blog](sortamaliicious.tumblr.com).
> 
> Un-beta'd so have fun with that.

The air around him feels like fire. He can’t breathe & when he does it tastes like ash on his tongue. It’s like led in his mouth, making the cotton dryness worse. His heartbeat pounds in his ears so loudly it hurts.

His hand pushes against the side of his mask. Like a dog, he whimpers. He wants to curl away from the fire but it’s everywhere. It burns against his skin, sweat dripping down him, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. 

_ Traitor _ , a disembodied voice spits venom from the far corners of the darkness. It’s his own voice echoing around him, repeating the word over & over & over again like a mantra.

The Vagabond can’t remember how he got here. This warehouse is unfamiliar. Only Jeremy is clear to him; all around him is a black void with the slightest bit of outlines making up the building. But Jeremy is so bright & so purple. He reaches to touch his face.

His gun points to the Lad instead. Ryan can barely raise his voice, hoarse & choking on the fire. “I… Did love you, once.”

“Ryan, Ryan please, I know you’re still in there buddy.” Jeremy says quietly. His hands rise in surrender, trying to keep the other calm. 

There’s suddenly two Jeremys as Ryan’s vision swims: he can’t see straight, the world rolling to the side. He feels his body following slightly as he sways. Eyes clench shut as though it would make it stop when the wave of nausea hits him hard.

It doesn’t stop.

For a brief second, when he opens them again, he’s staring at Ray & he remembers the feeling of his neck between his hands. They start to shake. It makes pain in his stomach worsen as the tremors move to the rest of his body. 

“All that lives must die.” The Vagabond’s finger curls around the trigger. He can’t keep his aim straight as he steps forward. Forehead presses against the muzzle. Jeremy brings his hand up to hold Ryan’s, pushing it further into his skull. Then another hand follows & another & soon there’s too many hands holding the gun, making his arm heavy.

“It’s okay, Ryan. You can end it now,” Jeremy tries to reassure. Was it Ryan he was trying to reassure, or himself? He looks so resigned to his fate as his shoulders sag, that once comforting smile now leaving a sour taste in Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan must be cruel, only to be kind. Their suffering will end with one bullet.

Except his hands refuse to work.

It should scare him the way the arms around him turn to flies & smoke, making the noises in his ears turn to an annoying buzz. His eyes burn from the heat. Or was the burning from the tears as the paranoia that always lingers behind his eyes now screams for attention? It pierces through everything. He can’t ignore it. 

_You can’t trust them!_ One screams. 

_End him._ Another purrs against the shell of his ear.

Everything is too hot. When Ryan pulls off his mask, he pulls his face with it. His head burns down to the bone, making hastily placed face paint drip off in bullets. He didn't cover himself with sealant yet he doesn’t care. Hair clings to his face, the typically uptied ponytail now loose. A pitiful image of a broken man stares at Jeremy.

Why does it hurt so bad?

The dog bares his teeth in pain. “You should not have believed me.” Ryan hisses. He heaves. It’s almost impossible to breathe as the heat continues to grow around him, pulling desperate gasps from his mouth as panic overwhelms him.

It wasn’t this hard when it came to the others, he thinks idly. Their bodies lie somewhere behind him, torn to shreds. Their blood is on his hands. Iron sits on his tongue. But… Had he killed them? His memory refuses to cooperate as images & senses merge into nothing but tears as a sob rips itself from his throat. 

The Fakes’ laughter that echoes in his head now turns to their screams, begging Ryan to stop. Yet it’s not him: no, it’s the Vagabond they scream at.

Several pair of eyes glow within the darkness & stare at him in fear. The warehouse washes away like smoke in water. The dim lights of the penthouse hurts his red-rimmed eyes.

Too many arms come from behind to grab Jeremy. Far too many for four people. It’s like a spider wrapping up the victim unfortunate to fly within its web. They pull Jeremy away from him.

_They’re afraid of you._ They know well enough the monster he’s been made into. There’s no one at the other end of his leash to hold him back. It wouldn’t take much to bolt forward  & bite. They know this.

“Ryan you’re sick. Let’s get you back to bed.” Geoff is at his side, speaking quietly, nervously reaching for him.

It sounds like he’s being held underwater. Thunder rumbles beneath the water. There’s too many people talking & he can’t tell who’s who or if it’s all in his head. His arm flares like he’d touched a stove that drags his attention away from the voices. Geoff’s hand is on him yet all he can focus on is the bandages over his shoulder that’s pink from blood.

_They shot at you!_ The Vagabond screams in his ear, black skeleton teeth dragging along his cheeks. _They’re your enemy!_

The Vagabond slams his gun across Geoff’s face.

He steps back, wobbling, unable to stand straight. The dog cowers with his tail between his legs. Floor bends beneath his paws. 

Ryan throws up. Acid burns on the way up & he can’t help the whimper that follows. He slams his back against a wall, unaware of the painting he’s sent clattering to the floor along with his gun. Glass shatters over bare feet, the sound far too loud in his head. 

When he looks back up, he’s back within the darkness. Their bodies stand decaying before him. Eyes hang from heads, skin peeling away from muscle & bone, shuffling slowly closer to him. He’s getting caged in!

With the last bit of strength he has, he pushes himself off the wall to run. There’s no destination in mind but his paranoia pleas for him to flee. He’s outnumbered. The Vagabond needs to get out to stay alive.

_ So shall the world perceive _

_ That I have turn'd away my former self; _

_ So will I those that kept me company _


End file.
